


Opening Up

by jadztone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, First Kiss, Growing Neville MiniFest, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Herbology, M/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:39:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadztone/pseuds/jadztone
Summary: Neville is having a difficult time getting his client's rare flower to open up.  Narcissa Malfoy offers to help, but she has conditions that involve spending time with her son.  Soon Neville finds himself wanting to see Draco open up as well.





	Opening Up

 

Neville always knew this would happen someday, that his reputation for being able to cultivate difficult plants would prove to be completely undeserved.  He stared in frustration at the unfurled buds that refused to open, despite every effort.  His client _had_ warned him that Angel’s Trumpet was known to be quite unyielding.  It was generally considered to be a good thing, since the flower petals were most often used for making a draught that was pure poison.  No one actually wanted it to be _easy_ to reproduce.  In fact, many of the flourishing plants were rounded up and destroyed during the war.

Damocles Belby, who won an Order of First Merlin for his wolfsbane potion, developed a theory of possible uses for the petals that may actually be beneficial to wizards.  But he needed a steady supply of them in order to run his experiments.  Most of the herbologists that he approached turned his request down flat, not wanting any association with the plant at all.  Neville agreed to the challenge, knowing it was unlikely anyone would suspect a Gryffindor war hero of being up to no good.  And if they did, he didn’t really give a rat’s arse. 

Belby gave him his one plant that had two buds.  He’d already used up the flowers that were open when he purchased the plant.  The man who sold it to him, Mundungus Fletcher, refused to reveal his source so that Belby could quiz the former owner on how to care for it. 

The plan was to get the Angel’s Trumpet to reproduce, but Neville couldn’t even manage the very first step of getting a bud open.  The few textbooks that referenced the plant were useless.  He’d asked around, but none of the other herbologists wanted to admit they had any knowledge of how to cultivate the thing.  Not even Professor Sprout.   It was disheartening.

Neville sighed and sent off an owl to Belby asking him to meet the next day at his greenhouse.  He would have to throw in the towel and give him back his plant.  Neville reached out his hand and delicately stroked the soft silky bud.  “It’s okay. I don’t blame you at all.  I’m the one who couldn’t figure you out.  I hope the right wizard comes along who will understand what you need.”

“Am I intruding? You look like you’re having a moment.”  Neville jerked his hand back and whipped his head around.  His eyes widened.  Narcissa Malfoy was standing at the entrance to his greenhouse, her lips curved into a knowing smile.  “Oh, don’t be embarrassed.  I talk to my plants as well.  It’s only what they deserve.”

Neville stared at her, speechless.  Her smile widening, she entered the greenhouse, taking a little detour past some of the plants.  Neville stiffened, but the way she lightly touched some and gave soft little oh’s to others relaxed him a little.  Only a little.  This _was,_ after all, the wife of the man who’d had every intention of murdering him at the Ministry five years ago. 

When she finally came to stand next to him, the soft smile she bestowed on the Angel’s Trumpet had him narrowing his eyes.  “Oh, you darling.  Tsk, tsk, are you being shy?  Tell me, Neville, have you ever seen one of these completely open?”

Neville pressed his lips together for a moment, then ground out, “Not in person. I’ve only seen the pictures in textbooks.”

Narcissa made a soft noise of chagrin.  “They are beautiful, much more so than the muggle plant with the same name.  What distinguishes the magical variety is the golden ring surrounding the stamen that resembles a halo. The pictures don’t quite capture the golden glow.”

Neville felt the acid taste of jealousy.  His disappointment was not just on behalf of his client.  He _wanted_ to see that halo.  “I take it you’ve seen them, then?”

Narcissa turned her gaze to him.  “I own an Angel’s Trumpet, and it blooms quite regularly.”

Neville wanted to call her statement gloating, but if she were telling the truth, her pride was well deserved.  Neville felt a tiny sliver of admiration, which evaporated as he realized the implications.  “How in Merlin’s name do _you_ of all people have an Angel’s Trumpet?  Did you acquire it after the war?”

Narcissa lifted her chin.  “I have had it in my possession since before Draco was born.  When the Ministry came around to inspect my garden, I kept it hidden.  Do _not_ try to tell me that you wouldn’t have done the same if you had been in my place.”

Neville was forced to concede that he probably would have hidden it, too. But then again, he would never have sinister intentions for it.  There wasn’t much he could do with the knowledge of what she just told him. With the war being over, it was no longer illegal to own one.  Neville cleared his throat.  “I don’t need to be a Ravenclaw to deduce that the reason you’re here has something to do with this plant?”

Narcissa’s knowing smile returned.  “Indeed.  I heard through the grapevine that you’ve been asking around about how to cultivate the Angel’s Trumpet.  I’d like to invite you out to Malfoy Manor so that you may study mine more closely.  I could teach you it’s secrets.”

Neville fought back a shudder of revulsion.  Visit Malfoy Manor?  Neville had heard stories from Harry and Luna about that place.  In a curt voice he said, “Mrs. Malfoy, I am at a loss as to why you think I would _ever_ want to set foot there.  Leaving aside for the moment all the things that Voldemort got up to in that place, there’s my own personal history with the people who lived in the Manor.  Your son bullied me throughout my school years.  Your husband tried to murder me. And don’t get me started on what your sister did to my parents.”

Narcissa’s expression drained of liveliness, settling into a mask.  Neville refused to feel guilty for his blunt words.  She lifted her chin.  “I think you’ll set foot there because I know how you feel about plants, Mr. Longbottom.  That makes me confident you won’t be able to resist.  You’ve been puzzling over this darling specimen for weeks, and I have the key to unlocking it.”

Neville gaped at her in amazement.  Not only at her audacity, but at the fact that she was _right_.  He gritted his teeth.  “I’m not daft enough to think you’re doing this as a favour from one herbology enthusiast to another.  You want something.”

Her laugh had a tinkling musicality to it, which surprised Neville.  It reminded him disconcertingly of Luna.  “Of course I want something, young man.  Slytherins are all about quid pro quo.”  Her expression sobered.  “Let’s just say that it would be most beneficial if word got around that you were making frequent social visits to Malfoy Manor.  You are a war hero.  A former Auror. You come from a good wizarding family.  Your reputation is flawless.”

Neville scowled at her.  “You want everyone to think that I’ve given you absolution?”

Narcissa shook her head.  “No, a second chance.”

Neville huffed out a bark of indignation.  “You can’t be serious!  You _had_ your second chance the first time Voldemort was defeated and you escaped punishment.”

Narcissa pursed her lips together, shaking her head again.  “Not for me.  For Draco.  He’s staying at Malfoy Manor until he starts his potions apprenticeship.  I have him helping me in my garden since he’ll be working with many of the herbs as ingredients.  As I said, if word got out that you two were interacting…”  She raised her eyebrows.

Neville heaved a sigh, stopping just shy of a groan.  His feelings about Draco were very mixed.  There was what he’d brought up to Narcissa – Draco’s bullying.  From the very beginning of his first year, Draco took every opportunity to torment him.  It continued on like that for five years, and then… so much changed.  After Dumbledore’s death, Harry shared everything that he’d observed about Draco that whole year.  Then a year later Neville heard all about Luna’s interactions with Draco in the Malfoy dungeon. 

Neville had been through so much, but at least he’d had friends that stood by him.  He’d had the luxury of being able to look at himself in the mirror and be proud of what he stood for.  It seemed that Draco had neither.  Neville found himself, like Harry and Luna, feeling sorry for Draco.  Maybe not enough to ever interact with him, but any feelings of fear and anger regarding the other boy had drained out of him. 

And then there was…four months ago.  One of his plants was being finicky and for some reason it seemed to only respond to horklump juice.  Neville popped in at his favourite apothecary, at a time when the shop was overrun by customers.  The harried owner, seeing Neville, smiled apologetically and waved him into the store room to get what he needed. 

Neville had been in the back before when he was delivering some herbs to the shop, but had never paid attention to how the shelves were organized. It was quite confusing.  Neville was wandering the aisles completely mystified, when he turned a corner and ran full tilt into Draco.  His former nemesis was dressed incongruously in a black bespoke suit with a large stained apron over it.  Tucked behind his ear, mussing up his silky pale blonde hair, was a well chewed quill.  They were both disoriented as they recovered from their impromptu collision.  Neville blurted, “Merlin, I’m sorry!  Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Draco’s brow furrowed, and Neville fully expected him to go off.  Instead he blinked a few times and said, “You work here, too?”

Neville shook his head.  “No, just a customer.  Bit busy up front and he said I could just get what I need.”

Draco, who seemed at first more bewildered than anything, now appeared shifty.  He seemed to not want to look directly at Neville.  “Oh, uh...  Right.  What is it you need?”

Neville, curious at the change in mood, replied,  “Horklump juice.”

Draco gave a stiff nod.  “Right, that’s this way.” He turned and hurried off down the row, stopping abruptly in front of a shelf that had a large jar of murky brown liquid.  “How much you need?”

“Oh…uh…50 ml should do it.  Any more and it will go bad before I can use it up.” 

Draco gave another stiff nod and grabbed a vial, using his wand to siphon the juice into it.  Neville could see that his hands were shaking, and he kept giving him furtive glances.  Did he…did he think Neville was going to hurt him in some way?  Draco thrust the vial at him.  “A-anything else you need?”

Neville stared at him, unable to respond.  Draco chanced a quick glance up at him, and Neville noticed for the first time in all the years they’ve known each other, that his eyes were a perfectly gorgeous shade of grey.  “This’ll d-do for now,” he stuttered.  Draco seemed relieved as he nodded again and then glided off to some other part of the store room.  It seemed as if he were forcing himself to make his escape nonchalantly.

Neville had not been able to stop thinking about the incident, unable to understand _why_ he couldn’t stop thinking about it, and not really keen to figure it out.  And now Draco’s mother was here, proposing that Neville spend time with her son in exchange for helping him with something he’s been struggling with for weeks. 

“I just want to make sure I’ve got this sorted.  You’re willing to show me how to get this Angel’s Trumpet to flourish, and in exchange you want me to spend time with Draco so that folks will think he’s an okay guy?”

Narcissa gave him a reproachful look.  “Draco _is_ an ‘okay guy.’  The problem is that people don’t want to believe it.  They _will_ if they think you do.”

Neville narrowed his eyes.  “And what if I don’t?  Hmm?  What if I spend time with him and decide he’s still as much of a git as he ever was?”

Narcissa lifted her chin.  “Unless you plan to provoke him deliberately into bad behavior, and I know you won’t, I have no concerns.”

Neville huffed out a breath.  “Well then, I guess I agree to your proposal.  But if at any point I decide that Draco isn’t deserving of a second chance, I’m calling it quits.”

Narcissa bowed her head in agreement.  “Then we have a deal.  You may come to Malfoy Manor tomorrow morning at 6 am, and bring the Angel’s Trumpet.  You’ll find that our friend, here, is an early riser.”  She cooed a little at the plant, and then turned and swept grandly out of the greenhouse, her robes fluttering.

*

Neville showed up at the gates of Malfoy Manor at 6 o’clock on the dot.  A house elf let him in, and instead of leading him to the garden as he expected, Neville ended up at the manor.  The kitchen, to be exact.  Seated at a small table in the corner was Draco.  There was something irreconcilable about seeing him there, a Malfoy in such a pedestrian part of the manor.  He looked up from his chocolate croissant and gave Neville a polite smile, as if he’d been expecting him.  “Would you like some coffee?”

Neville shifted from one foot to another.  He’d been in a rush and hadn’t had any, so he was rather gasping for it.  “Um…sure.  That would be great.”   He gently placed the plant on the table and sat down as Draco, instead of summoning the house elf, used his wand to pour coffee from a carafe into a cup and then levitated the cup and some cream and sugar over to the table. 

As Neville prepared his coffee, Draco contemplated the Angel’s Trumpet.  “Mother was right about you.  Not ready to show yourself, are you?”  He casually stroked the tightly curled petals.  He looked up at Neville.  “This is their favourite time of the morning.  Doesn’t matter the season or whether it’s light or dark.”

Neville was having a bit of a hard time dealing with watching Draco’s caressing fingers.  And with his much more relaxed behavior in comparison with how he’d been at the apothecary.  It made sense, though.  He was on his own turf.  Unsure of what to say, Neville blurted, “Did your mother tell you the other reason why I’m here?  The _real_ reason?” 

Draco’s fingers stopped, and Neville felt oddly bereft.  “Of course.  Slytherins are a pragmatic lot.”  He glanced at Neville.  “I’d say I appreciate it, but then you’re being amply rewarded.  Whatever brilliant discovery Belby makes will be published everywhere and he’ll no doubt give credit to you for supplying him the all-important ingredient.  It will do wonders for your reputation and your business.”

Neville stared at him for a moment, and then snorted loudly.  “You think that’s why I’m doing this?  I don’t give a toss about accolades, I just want to learn about plants.  Rise to the challenge of uncovering their secrets.  Sometimes with some much needed help as your mother is going to provide.”

Draco looked for a moment like he had the perfect snide comeback.  But then his face melted into a rueful smile.  “That’s how I feel about potions.  I’ve never forgotten that first potions lesson with Snape, when he told us we could learn how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses.”  He bit his lip to stop the smile.  “I still have the goosebumps, I think.”  Neville didn’t respond, remembered having goosebumps in that class for an entirely different reason. 

Draco gave him a sly look, and he lowered his voice a little.  “If you want to know the real, _real_ reason you’re here…it’s because I’m dying to see what Belby comes up with.  He’s a genius, you know.  I asked my mother if she’d supply the flowers, but she doesn’t want anyone touching her plants.  So I convinced her to help you and fed her the idea that it would do wonders for my reputation if you were seen with me.”

Neville stared at him.  “Are you telling me that you out-Slytherined your own mother?”

Draco grinned, his eyes twinkling, and damned if he wasn’t a handsome bugger.  “Ah, she’d be proud of me if she knew. But yeah, I don’t actually _need_ your sterling reputation to rub off on me.  Not that it would hurt, I guess.”

Neville shook his head in exasperation.  “It’s just…that day at the apothecary.  You seemed like you were pretty down and out.”  Draco scowled and Neville held up his hand.  “Not the fact that you were working there.  It was your whole demeanor.”

Draco looked down at his hands.  “You caught me at a bad time.  I had a run in with someone who wanted to teach me a lesson for all my bad deeds.  I managed to get away from him before he did any real harm, but then running into you…well, I wasn’t sure if you were there to finish the job.”  Draco shrugged one shoulder.  “I don’t really keep track of who is friends with who, I just knew he was one of your classmates.”

Neville’s eyes widened.  “A Gryffindor?”  Draco jerked his head in acknowledgement.  “Who was it?”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “Not important.”

Neville regarded him for a few moments.  “It was Cormac McLaggen wasn’t it?”

Draco blinked in amazement.  “How’d you guess that quickly?”

Neville sighed heavily.  “I’ve been hearing rumors.  He’s a bit bent out of shape that he didn’t come away from the Battle of Hogwarts with a hero title.  Especially as he’s got all kinds of opinions on how it could have gone better.”  Neville thought Cormac was a tosser in 6th year with the whole quidditch thing, but apparently he’s taken it to a whole new level.  “I’m sorry he harassed you. Let me know if he does it again, yeah? I’ll have a go at him.”

Draco folded his arms, and Neville had to look away from the appealing sight of his muscles shifting and flexing.  “I can take care of myself.  I escaped him before, I can do it again!”  Neville’s eyebrows shot up at his vehemence and he had to bite his lip not to laugh.  Draco’s shoulders lost some of his stiffness and his own lips twitched.  “What the hell am I saying?  I’d love to see you have a go at that moron.”

Neville almost spit out his coffee.  It seemed so odd to engage in banter with someone who he once hated only slightly less than Snape.  And wasn’t that an interesting parallel, considering what Harry revealed about Snape’s character.

The house elf shuffled up to Draco and murmured, “Mistress is ready for you both in the garden.”  Draco gave him an acknowledging nod, then rose to his feet.  Neville quickly swallowed the rest of his coffee and followed suit.

*

Parvati’s gaze was speculative as she asked Neville how his day went.  He looked around at the others, who were all wide-eyed with curiosity.  Ernie kept lifting his pint to his lips, and then lowering it before he’d had a sip.  Normally Neville would be hesitant to feed the gossip mill.  But the whole point of the arrangement was to spread the word about Draco, so Neville told them all about how his first day at Malfoy Manor had gone.  He did punish them a bit for their curiosity by going into way too much detail about some of the things Narcissa taught him.

When he was finished, Parvati narrowed her eyes.  “I’m glad to hear it went well, but my warning still stands.”

Neville heaved a sigh.  “Parvati…”

Dean raised his eyebrows.  “What’s this?”

Parvati turned to look at Dean.  “Neville has a thing for boys who are posh and pretty.  Draco Malfoy is the epitome of both.”  Neville groaned in protest.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if by the end of the week Neville is completely gaga over him.”

Ernie started giggling.  “It’s true, mate.  I saw how you were when you met that guy…what’s his name?  His mum is on the Wizengamot…”

“Never mind,” Neville growled.  It was an experience he didn’t want to remember.  He was talking to Harry at the Ministry and accidentally tripped this gorgeous bloke as he was preparing to enter one of the floo fireplaces.  The poor man had ended up in Aberdeen.

Parvati pressed on.  “I’m just saying, you need to keep a lock on your heart.  I don’t care how good he looks in a suit, you can’t trust him.”

 

Later that night, as Neville curled around his pillow, he thought to himself that Parvati’s prediction was actually conservative.  He wasn’t even going to make it to the end of the week.  But she couldn’t have known, given that he left a few things out of his narrative.  Like the fact that Narcissa told him one of the key elements in getting an Angel’s Trumpet to unfurl was to stroke it lightly with your fingers for several minutes.  She grinned and said, “It’s one of the reasons the plant does so well here.  We Malfoys are very…tactile.”  She glanced over at Draco, who had been stroking one of the buds on their plant.  He turned bright pink at her words and refused to look at Neville. 

It didn’t help that Draco’s skin was almost as pale as the flower itself.  Also like the flower, Draco seemed reluctant to open up.  Despite his easy manner in the kitchen, for most of the day he seemed closed off.  Not as tense and anxious as he had been at the apothecary, but definitely shuttered.  Perhaps, like the flower, his best time of day was early in the morning. 

Neville drifted off to sleep that night with his thoughts dominated by a pair of gray eyes.

*

Over the course of the next month, Neville was a frequent visitor to Malfoy Manor.  That first week it was every day, but then there were gradually longer stretches between visits as Narcissa encouraged him to get used to tending Belby’s plant on his own turf. Despite a few hitches, he was doing much better than he expected. 

It took two solid weeks before the buds unfurled and he finally got to see the golden glowing halo.  He’d already seen it on Narcissa’s plant that very first day, and she’d given him an amused and fond look at the expression on his face.  But it was so much different getting to see it when he was the one who made it happen.  Since then, most lessons have been about how to develop new growth. 

Narcissa was an extremely skilled herbologist.  Neville found himself wanting to quiz her about some of the other plants he’d seen in the garden, but didn’t want to push his luck.  Quid pro quo…no telling what she might ask for next.  Not that he’d had any objection to what she wanted for their current agreement.  He quite enjoyed the time he spent with Draco. 

Draco slowly became less closed off as time went on, and was proving to be very witty and intelligent and even playful on occasion.  He was quite skilled with a wand, as well as a broom.  Sometimes Neville caught him zooming around the property chasing after a snitch.  As Parvati had feared, Neville was becoming quite taken with him.  He was also getting more and more teased by his friends any time he went out with them and couldn’t seem to mask the shine in his eyes as he talked about Draco.

Luna was the only one who didn’t tease him, but she also kept encouraging him to ask Draco out.  Which he absolutely was _not_ going to do.  Draco was always polite and accommodating and made him feel at home - a consummate host like his mother.  But there was zero indication he was even gay, much less interested in Neville. 

*

Neville hurried to the Malfoy garden, forcing himself not to go too fast lest he trip over something and damage the plant he was holding.  “Mrs. Malfoy!”  Narcissa turned from where she was pulling up some weeds.  “Look!”  He set the Angel’s Trumpet in front of her and pointed at the tiny shoots poking up from the soil.

Narcissa beamed at him.  “Oh, Neville!  I’m so happy for you!  Draco, come take a look.”

Neville turned to see Draco approaching.  He glanced inside the pot and regarded the shoots.  “Well done!”  He grinned and Neville felt his insides disintegrate.  Then Draco’s smile faded and his expression became impassive.  “I guess that means you won’t be coming around anymore.”

Neville’s own smile faltered.  “Well, we have to be sure that the shoots will grow.  The seedling stage is always the most unpredictable.”

Draco nodded gravely.  “Of course.  But I have no doubt you’ll succeed.  The uh…light is at the end of the tunnel.”  He gave Neville a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes, clapped a hand on his shoulder briefly and then turned and headed back to the manor. 

Neville watched him go, wondering what that was about.  Why was Draco unhappy about the prospect of Neville’s trips to Malfoy Manor coming to an end?  Had he been relying on Neville’s positive press about him after all? 

He almost flinched when Narcissa’s voice sounded close to his ear.  “When are you going to finally ask my son out?”  Neville stiffened.  “Oh come now, you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him?”  Neville cringed and reluctantly turned to face Narcissa.

She gave him a speculative look, then waved her hand.  “Alright then, let’s have your concerns.”  Neville opened his mouth, and then paused, wincing.  How did he broach the subject of Draco’s sexuality with his mother?  Narcissa rolled her eyes.  “Of course he’s gay.  I’ve known since he was about five.”  Neville’s eyebrows shot up, but then he looked to the side, blushing.  “Yes, I’m quite sure he would accept if you asked him out.”  Neville looked skeptical.  “It wouldn’t be because he’s desperate.  He gets offers all the time.” Neville scowled.  “And it wouldn’t be for ulterior motives.  Malfoys are hopeless romantics.  He’d be incapable of dating for any other reason.”  She folded her arms.

Neville shook his head, huffing out a laugh.  “Any other answers to questions I haven’t asked?”  Narcissa’s laugh tinkled in that way he’d grown fond of over the past few weeks.  He drew in a breath.  “I’ll…um…think about it.”

She gave him an exasperated look.  “I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave?”

Neville scrunched up his nose.  “I’m only ever brave when it comes to keeping others from being hurt.”

Narcissa eyed him with challenge.  “Is that so?  I don’t know if you noticed, but Draco wasn’t too keen on the idea of you leaving here for good.  I’d say he’ll feel pretty wounded if he thinks you’re not interested in ever seeing him again.  If you don’t want Draco to be hurt, use some of that bravery and tell him how you feel.”

Neville looked over towards the manor house, then back at Narcissa.  “Are you sure about this?”

Narcissa put her hands on her hips.  “I know my son.”

Neville bit his lip.  “And you’d really be okay with your son dating… _me_?”

Her expression softened.  “Not to look _too_ far into the future, but if things work out well for you two, it would be nice to have someone else like-minded in the family.”  Her eyes cast around the garden.

Neville felt heat prickle all over his face and neck.  Narcissa as his mother-in-law.  _Merlin_ , what an idea.  He gave her a jerky little nod.  “Alright then.  I’ll ask him out.”  He rubbed the back of his neck, and then reached for his gardening gloves.

Narcissa cleared her throat and pointedly regarded the timepiece attached to her robe.  “Looks like it’s time for your break. Why don’t you go up to the kitchen?”

Neville’s brow furrowed.  “I just got here.  It’s not even 7 o’clock yet.”  She widened her eyes at him, silently communicating her exasperation.  “Right.  I’ll just go and see about a cup of coffee.”

With much trepidation, Neville made his way up to the manor.  Before he could reach the kitchen, he felt his arm being pulled into an alcove.  He turned to see that it was Draco.  His expression was an odd mix of anticipation and apprehension.  “I saw you talking to my mother.”

Neville felt a stab of panic.  “Yes, um..of course I was.  She’s teaching me about the Angel’s Trumpet, in case you’d forgot.”

Draco’s eyes flashed in annoyance.  “Don’t tell me you were talking about the bloody plant!”

Neville looked away, resigned.  “No.  Um…as a matter of fact we were discussing you.”

Draco blinked, and his ensuing smile seemed hopeful.  “Yeah?  It must have gone according to plan, then, since you came up here.  Otherwise I’m sure she would have hexed you.”

Neville’s eyebrows shot up.  “The two of you planned it? _Wait_ , she was going to he..” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Draco launched himself at Neville and covered his lips with his own. 

It took everything Neville had to grab Draco’s shoulders and push him away, glaring.  Draco huffed, “ _No_ Neville, it wasn’t part of the plan for her to hex you if you rejected me.  I just wouldn’t have been surprised if she did.  But it doesn’t matter because you didn’t reject me.  Right?”  His expression turned vulnerable, and every protective instinct in Neville lit up. 

 _Bloody hell_.  His fingers tightened and he pulled Draco back in to resume the kiss.  Draco whimpered and his arms snaked around Neville’s waist, pulling him closer.  Neville threaded his fingers through Draco’s silky hair, like he’d been dreaming of doing for far too long.  As Neville skimmed a thumb across his cheek, Draco’s lips parted and deepened the kiss.  Neville was once again reminded of the comparison he’d made to the Angel’s Trumpet.  It was still early morning, and he got Draco to open up with a soft stroke of his finger. 

As much as he loved plants, Neville couldn’t help but think that this was the greater victory.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! If you enjoy gushing over these two lovely characters, you can find me at dreville.tumblr.com


End file.
